


Susceptible

by china_shop



Category: White Collar
Genre: Episode Related, F/M, Fic, M/M, Multi, Pre-Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-30
Updated: 2012-07-30
Packaged: 2017-11-11 01:18:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/472857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/china_shop/pseuds/china_shop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Episode tag for 4.03. Spoilers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Susceptible

A few mornings after the Cook bust, Peter was on his way out the door when he caught sight of himself in the mirror by the coat rack and stopped, startled. He turned back. "El?"

She was lurking in the entrance to the kitchen, smirking. 

"What did you do?" Confusion and a wholly inexplicable twist of something like hope coiled together in his gut.

"Neal and I have an agreement," said El. "Anything he teaches you, he teaches me too. That includes the power of suggestion—subliminal gestures, rhymes. I wanted to see if I could get you to wear that tie."

"I hate this tie." Peter picked up the tail of the maroon monstrosity around his neck and scowled at it. "You know I hate this tie."

El grinned. "That's why I chose it. I was testing myself. And look, it worked!"

"You're too good at this." Peter eyed her warily, wondering what other suggestions she might choose to plant in his unsuspecting subconscious. "Wait, Neal teaches you his tricks? What exactly does he get out of this deal?"

El walked over to Peter and smoothed his tie, her expression softening as she smiled up at him. "He gets my gratitude." Her eyes danced, and she reached up to kiss him before adding slyly, "And, I don't know, my working on accepting his feelings for my husband?"

"Uh." Peter's mouth fell open. "I—I have to go to work now. You know Patterson."

"Okay, hon," said El, seeing him to the door, teasing him with her eyes. Both of them knew he was running away. Not ready to talk about that. Not ready to think about it. Definitely not ready to admit his strategy of ignore-it-till-it-goes-away had failed spectacularly, on Neal's part and his own. 

"We'll talk about it later," said El, and her quiet confidence was a promise of harbor in the coming emotional turbulence. "Just know I love you. Love—rhymes with 'glove'."

"You're a dove," said Peter. "Everything else, you're above."

"I get it." She laughed. "Get going or you'll be late." She opened the door and gave him a gentle shove.

Still rattled, Peter tossed his briefcase onto the back seat of the car and glanced back at the house. El was standing in the doorway, holding the photo of him and Neal in tuxes, and giving it a thumb's up as if it were a perfect pink diamond. Peter groaned loud enough for her to hear and shook his head, but he had to laugh too. If El and Neal were colluding, he didn't stand a chance. He might as well sit back and enjoy the ride.


End file.
